To the Victor Go the Spoils
by LadyDivine91
Summary: After Santana's rant, Kurt comes to his senses. He says to hell with Blaine and his supposed friends, and returns to New York to pick up where he left off. Straight off the train, he doesn't want to go back to his loft and all of its depressing memories, so he ends up at NYADA. Luckily for him, there are a group of men there dying to initiate Kurt into a secret ritual of theirs.


**After Santana's disgusting rant, Kurt comes to his senses. He says to hell with Blaine and his supposed friends, and returns to New York to pick up where he left off - Vogue, NYADA, the life he deserves. Straight off the train, he doesn't want to go back to his loft and all of its depressing memories, so he ends up at NYADA. Luckily for him, there are a group of gorgeous men there as well, dying to initiate Kurt into a secret ritual of theirs.**

 **I started writing this for lovejoybliss about two years ago, because Kurt deserved the world, including an orgy with the guys from his stage fighting class. Not Klaine or Blaine friendly. Warning for sexual content - orgy, anal, oral, exhibitionism.**

Kurt stepped off the train and onto the subway platform. He breathed in deep, took a good look around. Even though the overall atmosphere could mostly be described as _grey,_ and the air smelled less than pristine (New York subway stations had a particularly musty but unique stench that Kurt had yet to find anywhere else), it filled his body and mind with a sense of calm. He was _home_ , a New Yorker once again. Standing alone at the Chauncey Street station with his head held high, he couldn't believe he had ever left, that he had thought that there was something out there better than this, and that it might reside in _Ohio_ , of all places. After weeks in Lima, fooling himself that _that_ was his home, that he needed to go back, reconnect with old friends, and, more importantly (at the time), win Blaine back, he'd had his fill.

And it had started to suffocate him.

Blaine had obviously moved on - sadly and disturbingly - with Dave Karofsky. Kurt had thought he still had a chance. He'd thought he saw a tiny glimmer of hope that Blaine would choose him in the end. Even when Kurt broke off their engagement, after the heat of the moment had cooled, he'd convinced himself that they were on a hiatus, not separated for good. Until he found out that Blaine and Dave had moved in together.

And then … well, _fuck_.

It was a surreal revelation for Kurt, one that he positively could not comprehend. It didn't make any sense. It was like an overly contrived plot device in a poorly written sitcom, and that made Kurt paranoid. The three of them – Kurt, Blaine, and Dave - were gay. Following television logic, that meant that at least _one_ of them would have to die. With Kurt's luck the way it had been, more than likely, he would be the one getting the ax.

Time to bring the lucky socks out of retirement.

Then, to top it off, his closest friends since high school, people he had stood beside and defended at the cost of his dignity and many expensive designer outfits, seemed to have been replaced by pod people. Santana … _fucking_ Santana! God! He didn't even want to _think_ about her! He'd thought they were friends. He'd made himself believe that because he and Rachel let her move into their place when they had every right to kick her out, that that meant something to her. And then, even after everything she had said, the way she tore into him, bared her claws and ripped his insecurities to the surface, he had sought her out later on and apologized. _He_ apologized. Once the words _I'm sorry_ left his lips, and she smiled that disingenuous, saccharine smile she always did when she got her way, when she got away with being cruel and disgusting and heartless because there was apparently _something_ inside her that was so necessary to redeem that the entire Glee Club spent the last three plus years trying to build her ass up every time she spit in their faces, they were replaced by the sharp sting of bile in his mouth.

That wasn't the first mistake he'd made on his trip, and it definitely wasn't the last.

Kurt had been tempted to lock himself in his old bedroom and wallow in his grief until a tiny voice inside his brain – a voice that sounded very much like himself, only younger – reminded him of one important thing.

He didn't deserve this heartbreak.

Kurt had spent a great deal of time playing the role of Blaine's supportive boyfriend and Rachel's supportive best friend. He needed to remember how to be "Kurt Hummel - leading man" again. He didn't deserve to be pushed around, didn't deserve to be treated like second best, didn't deserve to play a supporting role in his life.

He deserved _better_.

Kurt Hummel was a force to be reckoned with. So he was going to start again (which he had recently begun to convince himself that yes, he was allowed to do). But this time, he was going to live his life for _him_ , without any apologies.

And he was going to start _now_.

It was a beautiful, sunny, Saturday morning, and Kurt was exhausted. Once he had decided to leave Lima, he grabbed his bag, said goodbye to his dad, and hopped the first train heading east. Because of a few minor delays, and one break down that caused him to miss his connection, he had been traveling all night. If he closed his eyes, he'd fall asleep standing up. But he couldn't go back to the loft just yet. It was too full of memories – stagnant ghosts of his and Blaine's relationship lingering, waiting to drive home things Kurt wanted to forget.

He tried to think of a place he could go and not face them for the time being. He hadn't decided fully before he started moving, jumping on the next train, another, then a bus. He simply let his body take him to the place it needed to be, and for some reason, that place was NYADA.

NYADA held a few Saturday classes - none that Kurt took since they were community classes - so the building was open, including the practice rooms. He figured he'd catch up with the life he had abandoned in the pursuit of something mediocre.

When he put it into that perspective, what he'd been doing the past few months instead of attending school made him want to cringe.

He made his way up to the room they used for stage fighting class. He didn't know why. It had been the battleground for a few of his and Blaine's more epic, passive-aggressive fights, but still, it felt like a good place to start.

He walked over to the line of weapons, each one hung on a rack on the wall – PVC swords, spears, bo staffs, shields. He picked up a sword and a shield. He flipped the foam-covered sword in his hand, maneuvering as if an attacker were approaching. Last time, that attacker was Blaine, coming at him full force regardless of the fact that Kurt had been out of the hospital only about a month after being beaten in an alley. Kurt raised his shield and came back around with a swipe that Blaine wouldn't have been able to dodge. Blaine was a good fighter, classically trained, but he was often hobbled by his temper. Plus, he was strongest on his right, so he blocked too far to the left, which exposed his right flank. Kurt was quicker. Blaine wouldn't have been able to deflect. He would have been blindsided.

Kurt chuckled. _Blindsided_. It was going around.

Kurt ducked down behind his shield, then popped back up to jab, a move that would have struck Blaine right in the heart. The memory was so real, he could swear Blaine was standing in front of him. Kurt blinked. It _was_ Blaine standing there in front of him. How did he find out Kurt left? Kurt had only been gone less than a day! Did he follow Kurt home? What about Dave!? Kurt blinked again. No, it wasn't Blaine. It was someone else, another man with hazel eyes and black hair, but taller, Kurt's height, with a slightly steeper nose and a darker complexion.

He was smiling at Kurt, the tip of Kurt's foam sword pushed up against his chest, poised to split his sternum.

"Now, if that were a _real_ sword, that jab would have been devastating."

Kurt's brow furrowed. He recognized the face and the voice, but he wasn't entirely certain about the name. "Xander?"

The man's eyes lit up when Kurt guessed it on the first try.

"Hey, Kurt!" Xander said, not bothering to tone down his enthusiasm. "I didn't know you'd be here!"

"I didn't know myself," Kurt admitted. "I just got back from a trip home, and I came straight here." Kurt peeked past Xander when the sound of shuffling and talking caught his attention. A pack of other students were entering the room, all young men, moving to the outskirts and putting down their things.

"That's cool." Xander watched Kurt with intense eyes long enough to match Kurt's sullen expression. "Are you okay? You seem a little … I don't know … lost in thought."

"I'm good," Kurt said, dismissing Xander's concern quickly. "It was a long train ride. I think I'd forgotten _how_ long." He wasn't ready to unload the gory details of everything that had happened back in Ohio. He'd rather forget about it. He scanned the room for a way to change the subject. He saw the other men grab weapons and pair up. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're rehearsing. We're background gladiators for a student film project - _Maximus_. Have you heard about it?"

Kurt shook his head. With his personal life spiraling out of control, he hadn't really paid attention to what was going on at NYADA. "I'm sorry. I haven't."

"Don't worry about it." Xander leaned in, whispering into Kurt's ear. "To be honest, it's not that good."

"Oh." Kurt chuckled, sucking in a breath at the subtle brush of Xander's lips against his earlobe. When Kurt was with Blaine, he wouldn't let himself notice how good it felt to have another man whisper in his ear, the warmth of a different body stand closer to him than arm's length. It felt like cheating, and after Blaine's tantrum over Kurt receiving flirty text messages from a harmless boy, Kurt knew that Blaine would see it that way, too. (Though why getting piggyback rides from the best friend that Blaine secretly lusted over didn't qualify as cheating, too, Kurt would never understand.)

Kurt hadn't been a big fan of physical displays of affection in high school, but he'd grown to appreciate them since he'd gotten to NYADA and met people who made him want to give out friendly hugs, or simply touch in general – a pat on the arm, an arm around a shoulder, a platonic hand holding his. Seeing as he was starting over, he let himself notice the way Xander felt standing beside him, the way he leaned lightly against Kurt's temple, the way he smelled. They were such minute things, but they felt so intimate and _God_ … just _great_. Comforting.

"But the fight at the end is going to be epic," Xander added. "Everyone dies."

"Wow." Kurt inclined his head towards Xander for just a second before Xander took a step away. "That _does_ sound epic."

"We're here to go over the choreography … and do other stuff." Xander beamed at Kurt, eyes bright, and teeth so white, they nearly glowed.

Kurt smiled when Xander smiled. He couldn't help it. Xander's smile had always been contagious. Plus, Kurt had to find out what teeth whitening gel Xander used because his teeth looked _incredible_.

"Well, far be it for me to interrupt a good massacre," Kurt said. "I'll get out of your way then."

"No!" Xander reached out for him. He seemed both eager and hesitant to take Kurt's arm, but he dropped his hand and pleaded with his eyes. "Actually, maybe you can help us. One of our ranks is stuck in traffic. He's not sure if he's going to be able to make it at all so we're down by one. Could you fill in?"

"But, I don't know the choreography." Kurt looked at the men already running through the steps. It didn't look too complicated, and besides, they were using foam swords. If Kurt swung at the wrong time or got someone in the wrong place, it wouldn't hurt.

"Oh, it's easy. And you're such a good stage fighter, I'm sure you'll be able to pick it up in no time."

Kurt felt his cheeks grow warm from Xander's easy and sincere flattery. "Thanks."

When Kurt had arrived at NYADA, he'd needed a moment to himself to think, to defrag, maybe find a dark corner and take a nap for about an hour. But he found himself giving Xander's proposal some real thought. Aside from a nap, he didn't have anything better to do. He'd never really spent time with the other guys from their stage fighting class. They'd shoot the breeze every once in a while, but not about anything important. But even as acquaintances, they were kind, complimentary, constantly encouraging. If Kurt was starting his life over, he might as well make some new friends – friends that wouldn't be emotionally draining, who wouldn't need to downplay his achievements to make their own seem better by comparison. As far as new friends went, he couldn't do much better than these guys right here. Especially Xander.

"Why not?" he said. "I'll give it a shot."

"Great!" Xander patted Kurt on the shoulder. It ended in a hold, Xander giving Kurt a squeeze that heated his insides all the way to his knees.

The men had divided up into pairs the way they did in class – shirts against skins. Kurt decided he'd join the skins team, pulling his shirt off and tossing it amid the rest of his things without asking.

If he remembered correctly, Xander liked seeing him with his shirt off. No reason not to stroke his ego if Xander was willing.

"Is this … okay?" Kurt asked when Xander stopped and stared, his eyes smoky.

"What? Yeah! No, it's … it's fine. Perfect, actually. Let's … let's get started." Xander grabbed his sword and shield, and moved into position. "I'll come at you first. You retreat a few steps and defend, then mirror that move on me."

"Gotcha." Kurt held his shield in front of him, his sword above him. "Whenever you're ready."

Xander counted to three under his breath, then advanced, bringing his sword down over Kurt's head, forcing him to defend with his shield. After three steps, Kurt pushed forward, taking four steps and attacking overhead with his sword, bringing it down the same way against Xander's shield.

"See?" Xander said when they came to a stop. "Easy peasy. You've got it already."

Kurt caught sight of the pair next to them performing the same choreography, but this time, the man fighting skins managed to disarm his opponent. Without so much as a word, the man grabbed his sparring partner roughly behind the neck and kissed him. Kurt's eyes went wide.

"Is _that_ in the script?" he asked.

"Uh … no." Xander rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting down to the floor. "It's just … uh … something we do. To the victor goes the spoils, you know?

The men kissed passionately, the one without a shirt shedding his sword in favor of embracing his friend. Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "How have I not heard of this before?"

"Well, it's not something we advertise. I mean, especially considering the fact that we do this on school grounds. But that makes it more exciting, you know?" Kurt looked stunned, and Xander's shy smile dissolved. "Oh! But you don't have to …"

"N-no," Kurt said. "No, that's alright. I'll do it your way." This was a larger jump than Kurt had planned on taking at this juncture. The thought of being intimate with someone again so soon after returning to New York hadn't occurred to him. He figured it would happen eventually. But why not now? What was holding him back? He had no fiancé, no boyfriend, no prospects for either in the near future. Why not take this opportunity to experiment?

At least he will have had the decency to be unattached before the fact.

Kurt got back into fighting stance. He waited for Xander to return to position, then came at him with his sword high. In two moves, Kurt disarmed him – ridiculously easy, it seemed to Kurt.

The blush spreading across Xander's cheeks confirmed it.

Xander bit his lower lip. "Well" - He lifted his gaze from his fallen weapon and looked at Kurt through his lashes - "you won. Now you get to take what's yours."

Kurt nodded. "Okay." He dropped his sword and shield, grabbed Xander by the neck, and pulled the man to him hard, crashing their lips together. If he was in this, he was in it all the way, with the same conviction the rest of the men had. Xander didn't fight. He dropped his shield and grabbed Kurt's hips, locking their bodies together.

Kurt slipped his tongue past the seam of Xander's lips, forcing the man to open his mouth, and Xander moaned. The sound resonated inside Kurt's mouth, so foreign to his ears that he stuttered, but he didn't stop kissing the man whose hands had started feeling their way up Kurt's bare back. Kurt didn't foresee that moment of hesitation happening, that some latent bit of pre-breakup guilt might wedge its way into his brain and try to stop him, remind him how he felt weeks ago when he'd declared to Blaine that he would win back his heart and his love. It had been so easy for Blaine to sleep with another man the same day he thought Kurt was through with him. Kurt didn't think that, when the time came, he would even give it a second thought. But there it was, nagging at his head with words like _soulmates_ and _forever_.

But Kurt refused to let it win. He refused to think about Blaine, and he refused to feel bad about this. He wasn't going to torture himself comparing this man to Blaine, because the fact of the matter was that Blaine had moved on with his life. It hurt, more than Kurt realized anything could hurt after he factored in losing his mother, but he had to move on, too. He had to see this time in his life as a beginning, not an ending – an opportunity to continue on to something bigger, possibly better.

Something that belonged to him and him alone.

He didn't need to dial himself down to make someone else comfortable. He didn't need to hide, or make himself lesser to avoid hurting someone else's feelings. He could be this man, a man he'd always dreamed he'd turn into – strong, confident, and at home in his body. A body that others could appreciate. They did that now, leaving their pairs and moving over to join them. They touched him, kissed him. It didn't matter that Kurt didn't know most of their names, or that he hadn't even met some of them before. They all seemed to know him, knew his name, and they each took turns saying it.

But in the end, _Xander_ said Kurt's name most frequently, most enthusiastically. _Xander's_ hands caressed Kurt's body most possessively. _Xander's_ mouth traveled the length of Kurt's neck and down his chest, his tongue licking Kurt's nipples, sucking slowly in a way that felt exotic and exhilarating at the same time. _Xander_ rutted against Kurt's growing erection. _Xander_ begged _yes_ , _please_ , and _more_ into Kurt's mouth as they kissed. And when a voice whispered, "May I?" with a condom pressing into the palm of Kurt's hand, Kurt knew who it was who wanted Kurt inside him.

And Kurt said, "Yes."

Kurt didn't put the condom on himself. The moment he agreed, someone took it from him and opened the wrapper. Someone else eased his pants down, and a third pair of hands rolled the condom onto his cock. Kurt didn't undress Xander either. Someone else took that task up for him, leaving Kurt to focus solely on kissing the lips hungry for his, caressing the body pressing against him, stroking the cock sliding beside his erection, searching for friction. While Kurt and Xander kissed, another pair of helpful hands opened Xander up. Kurt knew when they did because Xander gasped, " _Fuck_!" He shuddered in Kurt's embrace, wrapped his arms around him and held on to him for support. He wound his fingers in Kurt's hair, squeezing lightly with every thrust. Kurt moved from Xander's mouth to his neck, searching for the spots that would excite him, but it seemed there was no trick to Xander. Everywhere Kurt kissed ignited a fire within him, made him buck and writhe.

When Xander's moans became simple pleas – _Please, Kurt … I want you, Kurt … I can't wait, Kurt … I've waited so long, Kurt_ \- Kurt guided Xander to his hands and knees. Lube appeared out of someone's pocket, and they lathered Kurt's cock while Kurt kissed the nape of Xander's neck. Kneeling behind Xander, back curved and head bowed in anticipation, Kurt entered him. And it was easy, his hole tight, but lubed to excess; his body open, opening more with every inch Kurt pushed inside; every bad feeling in Kurt's body erasing, until his pelvis meeting with Xander's ass washed Kurt's whole trip back to Ohio out of his head. Xander dug his fingernails into the wood floor beneath him as he took Kurt completely, shifting his weight to guide Kurt to the spot he needed Kurt to hit, adjusting the angle of his body so he could be filled with him.

Xander arched his back and groaned when Kurt began to move, sliding in and out of this new body with a need for release so fierce, it came close to consuming him. It had been so long for Kurt, longer than he'd realized, and even though he prided himself on being able to go without sex for long stretches, he'd gotten used to having it on the steady.

And he really didn't enjoy being without it.

Kurt snapped his hips to a refrain of grunts and moans not his own, but not Xander's either, as all around them, men grouped together and did exactly what he and Xander were doing – fucking. In pairs and, in a few cases, in trios.

Ironically, this impromptu orgy fit the theme of their gladiator battle. Kurt mused that many wars could have been avoided had the soldiers dealt through their aggressions this way instead of with swords and spears.

The multitude of handsome men having sex around them should have been a distraction, but it wasn't, because Kurt couldn't help marveling at Xander's body and how perfect a match it was for his own. Xander's skin was caramel in color where Kurt's was pale, and his shorter hair a darker shade of brown, but he was lean, muscular, with no soft parts that Kurt could find. Xander's body felt the way Kurt's body did to him when he ran his hands over his limbs in the shower – the same hard planes, the same ripples, the same definition. They were both dancers, both athletes, both dedicated to their health and their figures, both confident as they knelt naked on the floor in the company of at least a dozen other men, all performing the same intimate act.

One couple split to merge with other groups, men migrating from one side of the room to the other to join with new partners, their numbers bunching and thinning with no rhythm, no rhyme. Just spontaneity, impulse, fueled by want and need so that contemplation and reason didn't exist here. What they were doing wasn't academic, didn't require analysis. It was carnal, animal, for physical pleasure, completion only.

And only for this moment. Not forever.

Kurt moaned when a couple made their way back around to them, one man stroking Xander's cock while the other planted themselves behind Kurt's legs, spreading his cheeks to explore his rim. With the exception of Kurt and Xander, the men didn't seem loyal to any one partner. They roamed about the room and ebbed like a tide, creeping over each other and up to the copulating couple. A mouth found Kurt's neck; another, his chest; a third kissed sporadically at every patch of skin it could reach. Another two men converged on Xander – one toying with Xander's nipples while the other teased Xander's mouth open with the glistening head of his cock.

Kurt felt overwhelmed by it all, but it was nowhere near enough. If he got the chance do this again, he would lie on his back, spread his legs, and make himself available to all of them, let them take control, decide which holes deserved to be kissed and which were meant to be fucked. He'd learn their names, each and every one, so that he could beg and command at will. As it was, he wished someone would lube up and slide inside him, pound him into Xander's body so he could give _and_ receive, but submissively, the way a buoy bobs atop the waves, the ocean choosing its direction.

As if being a part of this collective included mindreading skills, the man licking over Kurt's hole kneeled up and rolled on a condom. A mouth met Kurt's in time to pull his attention away from fingers, then a cock, spreading his entrance, using the kinetic energy of Kurt's own hips to work his hole open. Once Kurt knew it was there, he bucked back to meet it, ignoring the burn and the sting as his body was bombarded at the same time by a dozen other sensations that felt a hundred times better.

And when this man finally buried himself inside Kurt, Kurt got what he wanted. Cradled in this man's arms, the phantom body pounded into him, propelling Kurt forward into Xander's ass while he himself was fixed on his cock. The man was in no rush - pulling out, then sliding in completely before thrusting Kurt forward, so that Kurt would get the chance to register one sensation fully before he was introduced to the other. Back and forth he volleyed between fucking and being fucked. Mouths traded off on his, collecting moans like honey from his lips. Hands took turns massaging his chest, one set of fingertips circling a nipple while a completely different set, with different calluses, and applying different levels of pressure, tweaked the other, until Kurt felt like he was being torn in eighteen directions.

Trying to pinpoint the path of one pair of hands or one set of lips drove him insane, so he abandoned the effort and simply existed, let the men surrounding him take from him and give to him in ways he'd never given anyone permission to before. He let the congregation of hands hold him upright, closed his eyes and allowed himself to float in between both men on the orgasm swelling inside his body.

Xander groaned that he was close, then that he was cumming, his words lost in a blur of gasps and moans. Xander's heat disappeared when he slid off Kurt's cock, but it was replaced by Xander's mouth when he rolled Kurt's condom off and wrapped his lips around him. This new sheath of wet and hot nearly finished Kurt. He fell forward, but the arms around his torso caught him, keeping him locked chest to back with the man moving steadily faster as he felt himself nearing his own end, and unwilling to let Kurt go before he got there. Kurt felt heat, urgency, a glance against his prostate that made his toes curl. He moaned constantly, but not a single one hit the air, always a mouth within reach to swallow it.

"That's right," the man behind Kurt whispered when Kurt's body shook. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for us. You know, Xander's been wantin' to taste you forever. It's all he ever fuckin' talks about. So why don't I fill you up, then you can fill him up?"

"Yes," Kurt mumbled, agreeing to what amounted to get fucked, sucked, and cum, but at this point, it was safe to say he would have agreed to anything. Cow tipping, cliff diving, rob a bank, streak Grand Central Station? Anything, as long as the man with his cock up Kurt's ass kept pushing him forward into Xander's mouth.

As other men succumbed to their orgasms, they slipped away. With no mouths kissing his, Kurt could finally breathe. He didn't realize he wasn't until his first breath of oxygen filled his lungs and his brain spun. He opened his eyes, taking stock of where everybody had gone and what they were doing. The other dancers stood with their backs to the mirrors, watching, some stroking unspent erections, others simply smiling.

"They're waiting for you to finish," the man behind Kurt pointed out, kissing Kurt's shoulder as he spoke. "Why don't we give them a good show, hmm?"

"O-okay," Kurt said, not sure what a good show would entail in this instance, but he was willing to try. He was, above all else, a performer, though this was not his preferred venue. He wasn't into porn, which was the only thing that sprang to mind. Plus, the only man he had ever had sex with was Blaine, and as adventurous as they were in the bedroom, Kurt had to admit that, compared to this, their sex life had been staid.

But the man behind Kurt seemed more than happy to demonstrate. He grabbed hold of Kurt's hips, tilting Kurt forward until he rested his hands on Xander's shoulders, then held him steady. He spread his legs wider, took a deep breath, then hit Kurt hard from behind.

"G-god! God! Fuck! Shit, shit, shit!" Kurt spat obscenities with no control as the man behind him picked up the pace, but Xander suckled gently, probably because Kurt's cock being shoved down his throat meant he couldn't do much of anything else.

Kurt heard conversation in the room – whispers, hums of appreciation, even laughter. He should have felt humiliated. He wasn't an exhibitionist. He valued his privacy, and for Kurt, having sex was as private a moment as a person could get. But _this_ spurred him on, lit a fire in his groin. He'd already come this far, and considering the fact that he was about to cum any second, there was no way he was stopping now.

He grabbed Xander by the hair, pulling too hard in his excitement, but Xander responded favorably, scratching his nails down Kurt's thighs and sucking harder. Then there was the man with the ceaseless amount of energy whose assault on Kurt's ass seemed like it would never end. But it had to, because Kurt felt himself cumming, his abs contracting, his cock spilling hot into Xander's mouth, accompanied, absurdly, by whistles and a round of applause. Kurt only hoped that he could last long enough after oversensitivity kicked in for the man behind him to get his, for courtesy's sake. Kurt didn't know how this worked etiquette wise. Would the man behind him get pissed at Kurt for cumming if he didn't cum at the same time? Would someone else in the room step up to take care of him? Were there rules in place for that sort of thing? Would Kurt be called upon to blow him the way Xander had volunteered to blow Kurt?

A few seconds later, that didn't seem like it would be an issue. The man behind Kurt grunted, rough hiccups catching in his throat as his hips jerked unevenly. The arms wound around Kurt tightened till they began to hurt, but it didn't dull Kurt's orgasm. It intensified it, his hips slamming forward mercilessly into poor Xander's jaw. Xander gagged, but he didn't move from his crouch until he'd swallowed every last drop of Kurt's cum. Then he fell away, stumbling backward to collect himself and breathe.

"There … you go." The man holding Kurt helped him to the floor, laying his limp body on his side. With a stroke down Kurt's cheek and a kiss to his temple, the man left as anonymously as he came.

Kurt lay on the floor in a daze. If he'd wanted to speak, there was no way he could. He was winded, weak. His body became very obvious to him - his gaping hole, the lube dribbling out of it, his damp forehead and hair. He had to look a wreck.

And he couldn't care less about it.

Someone put a jacket over him; someone else gave him a towel. He saw their feet as they passed by, heard their kind murmurs, but he wasn't able to process them yet. When Kurt's eyes would focus again, he saw Xander lying in front of him, close enough to touch but keeping a respectful distance, waiting for a reaction.

"What … what did you think?" Xander asked, staring into Kurt's face boldly despite reddening cheeks.

"Do you guys do this every Saturday?" Kurt laughed. He couldn't believe he did that. And not only did he do it, he _loved_ it. If there was a round two somewhere, he wanted in on it. "Because if that's the case, I'm going to stop by here on Saturday more often."

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to get you on board with this."

"See ya, Xander! See ya, Kurt!"

Kurt turned and watched two couples, cleaned and dressed, waving goodbye as they left the room, strolling out nonchalantly as if this were any other class on any other day, wrapping up for the afternoon.

"Well, if there's a sign-up sheet, put my name on it," Kurt said, returning their waves goodbye.

"I will." Xander smiled. "But, you know …" He bit his lower lip, orchestrating his next suggestion "… it doesn't have to end here. A lot of us pair up afterward. That's where those guys are going."

"Are they?" Kurt said, hoping that this was going where he thought it might be going. Xander might not turn out to be his next boyfriend, but for a little mutual stress relief, he wouldn't be a bad choice. None of them would. Kurt didn't need to hitch his wagon to another person. He needed to focus on himself.

Why not just have some fun for now?

"Yup. They're going to continue this party in private." Xander nodded past Kurt's shoulder. Kurt turned to see three more pairs of couples linked arm in arm, walking out the door. "By the way, what are you doing right now?"

Kurt looked back at Xander, those smoky hazel eyes and his infectious smile doing their best to make up Kurt's mind. But even if they weren't working magic, that taste of Xander's ass and his mouth had Kurt fiending for more.

Kurt winked. "I think I'm going home with you."


End file.
